Love in the Air
by midnighrunner
Summary: Five years ago Dee Thompson and Dwayne Johnson were Denver's hottest radio dueboth on and off the air. But when Dee left the city, and Dwayne, to work in L.A., their untried romance fell apart. But, now she's back and to her dismay the old electric mag
1. Default Chapter

A/N's: The idea for this fic came to me as I was finishing up Rainwater Hills. So, I began working on it right away. Although the idea of having Mark Calloway (The Undertaker) make an appearance was all the idea of my fav reviewer Sharnhorst. Thanks so much chica! This fic is for you and I hope you enjoy! One last note, the wrestlers used in this story aren't wrestlers and have never been wrestlers...I hope you don't mind!

Disclaimers: As always I own no one except Dee and other characters born of my own mind. Everyone else is copyrighted to the WWE and Vince McMahon. So, please don't sue.

Chapter One

Dee Thompson stepped into the back seat of the long, sleek limousine. She crossed her legs and settled back against the plush gray upholstery, grateful for the air-conditioned interior.

The chauffeur who met her at Stapleton International Airport had explained that Mark Calloway was unable to, but had sent him to take her to her hotel in downtown Denver.

The hot, dry air that greeted them outside was a jolt, even though Dee had been reading about the long, record-breaking hot spell in Colorado. It had been drizzling and only seventy degrees when she'd left Los Angeles just a couple of hours ago. She'd dressed for the west-coast weather instead of the sweltering Denver September.

Dee shrugged out of the long-sleeved navy blazer and dropped it across her lap. The chauffeur looked at her over his shoulder and said, "I'm sure the weather must seem unbearable to you."

"It's hot," Dee admitted and smiled. "But then, Denver's my home. I've seen it this hot before in early September."

"I see." He nodded, maneuvering the sleek car out into the stream of airport traffic.

Dee was glad he made no further attempt at conversation. She wanted only to observe the dear, familiar surroundings of the beautiful city she thought of as home. Finally, she twisted around, lifting her eyes to the majestic Rockies that reached to the sky on the western horizon. Hot though it was in Denver proper, snow dusted the highest peaks, as the sun began to slip below them.

The car purred to a stop in front of the stately old White Manor Hotel. Dee felt her heart constrict. She'd spent the night here only once in her life. As she walked into the imposing tiered lobby, her eyes automatically lifted to the balcony at the fifth floor level, and the door to room 56.

She stepped up to the smiling desk clerk and announced in a weak voice. "I'm Dee Thompson. I'm to-"

"Yes, indeed." The man beamed at her. "I remember you. You were on X104 radio with Dwayne Johnson."

"You're right and I-"

"Mark Calloway has been calling to see if you've checked in. Welcome back to Denver and to the White Manor."

"Thank you, it's good to be back," Dee responded.

"Everyone's excited about you being back on the air with Dwayne Johnson." He handed a key to a bellman. "Take the lady to 56 "

"No, I...have you another..."

"Is something wrong? Mr. Calloway asked that we give you one of our finest rooms and so I-"

"Room 56 is fine. Just fine," Dee managed. She turned and followed the bellman.

After he'd carefully placed all of Dee's suitcases in the dressing area, Dee locked the door behind him. She took a deep breath, slowly turned and finally let her eyes stray to the king-size bed. It was in exactly the same place it had been on that night five years before. Dee could vividly recall that the sheets were ice-blue then.

Hurriedly, she crossed the room and peeled the comforter to the foot of the bed. She moaned. Soft, clean sheets of ice-blue looked cool and oh-so-inviting and Dee could see again a long, lean body, unclothed and masculinely beautiful, stretched out in the slumber. Handsome face in repose, ebony hair disheveled. Broad, bronzed chest rising and falling evenly. Hard abdomen, narrow hips, and long powerful legs. 

She'd left him like that on that morning five years ago. She'd tiptoed out of the room without waking him. In all the times she'd thought of him since, she always pictured him gloriously naked in this blue bed.

A huge bouquet of long-stemmed Happiness roses drew her attention to the dresser opposite her. The card read:

"Sorry I couldn't meet the plane. The wife and I, along with Dwayne Johnson, want to take you out to dinner tonight. Will call for you at 8:30 this evening. Welcome back!" It was signed "Mark Calloway."

Dee began to tremble. In exactly one hour she would see Dwayne Johnson again.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N's: Thanks go out to Sharnhorst and Dani64 for reviewing this little fic. Also to Dani thanks so much for the kind words about the rest of my fics. I only hope to you do get the chance to read them all. To Sharnhorst I've decided to give a shot out to in this fic. Just look for the name Sharni! ;)

Chapter 2

Dee, an air of cool confidence belying her true feelings, swept into The Imperial Garden restaurant on the fatherly arm of a jovial Mark Calloway, the general manager of radio station X140. On Mark's other arm, his wife, Sharni Calloway, was as happy as he to have Dee Thompson back.

The laughing, chattering trio was escorted through the main room of the busy east Denver eatery and up a half flight of stairs into the cheerful garden court. 

"Honey, you slide in there." Mark took Dee's elbow. "I'll sit here by the Misses, and when Dwayne arrives, he'll keep you company."

"That'll be fine," Dee said pleasantly, her stomach jerking at the mere thought of Dwayne beside her.

"Dee, I swear you're prettier than ever." Sharni Calloway was beaming at her. "I'll bet when Dwayne sees you tonight, that permanent scowl he's worn lately will disappear."

Mark Calloway shot his wife a sidelong, silencing look.

"Pay Sharni no mind, Dee," Mark said. "You know how she is about Dwayne. Lord, you'd think she'd borne him."

"Is Dwayne very unhappy about my coming back?"

"Why, Dee, how could you think such a thing? You-"

Sharni interrupted. "Dee, you know I always speak my mind. Dwayne wasn't too thrilled when Mark told him you'd be coming back to be his morning-show partner. In fact, he said-"

"Damn it, Sharni, who runs the station, me or you?" Mark summoned a waiter, and looked relieved when he hurried to take their drink order. "Dee, what will you have?"

"Just a glass of white wine," Dee managed weakly. Why should Sharni's revelation about Dwayne's reaction be shocking? She'd hardly expected him to be overjoyed.

Dee gritted her teeth. She could take what he dished out. She was no longer a nineteen-year-old kid to be bossed around by him. He'd controlled her almost from the moment he gave her the much-coveted job as his partner on the morning show. She'd been only seventeen years old then. She'd sent in an audition tape just like all the other hopefuls, and, impressed by what he'd heard, Dwayne had called and asked her to come in for an interview. She could still recall the startled look on his handsome face when she shyly entered his office.

"Well, will you come, Dee?" Sharni Calloway's voice pulled Dee back to the present.

"I...I'm sorry, Sharni. What did you say?"

"Are you all right, Dee? You seem a million miles away." Sharni stared at her.

"I'm just fine, really," Dee apologized.

"I just suggested that you come out to the house on Sunday. We could charcoal some steaks and swim in the pool."

"For goodness' sakes, Sharni, she just got off the plane," Mark intervened. "Give her a chance, will you? I wonder what's keeping Dwayne. I'm starving and I'll bet you are, too, Dee."

Feeling as though she never wanted to eat again, Dee said, "A little, yes."

"Mr. Calloway." The manager of the restaurant stepped up to the banquette. Sorry to disturb you." He nodded graciously to the ladies. "You've a telephone call."

When Mark returned, looking embarrassed, he said, "That was Dwayne on the phone. He can't make it this evening. He's terribly sorry, but it seems..."

Dee never heard the rest of the explanation. This was going to be harder than she thought. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N's: I'm feeling pretty good today, so I though I'd put up another chapter for you guys.

Chapter 3

Dee felt relieved when the evening was finally over and the Calloways had dropped her back at the White Manor. Feeling weary, she kicked off her shoes and eagerly unzipped her silk dress. In seconds she'd completely stripped and stood under a pelting shower, eyes closed, face turned up to the pounding spray.

Yawning, Dee toweled herself dry, slipped on a pair of eggshell crepe pajamas, sat down on the edge of the turned-down bed and stretched. She'd left the drapes open. Only transparent sheers of filmy white covered the tall plate glass. The big, cool suite was suffused with soft light from the tall downtown skyscrapers and Dee, alone in the bed, let her gaze slide slowly around the room. The scent of roses wafted to her, one more reminder of that other fateful night she'd spent here. Then, too, there'd been roses, dozens of roses, all sent by Dwayne Johnson.

Roses and champagne and Dwayne. Tears slowly slipping down her cheeks, Dee again let time turn back. She was nineteen years old and she was in this very room.

It had been her last night in Denver. She was to depart the next morning for Los Angeles and the new position at one of the top radio stations there. Dwayne had taken her out to dinner on that last evening, a night of dry August heat and bright moonlight. She'd worn a cool cotton sundress, narrow straps tied in a bow at the back of her neck. Her almost waist-length hair had been pulled into a casual shiny twist and pinned atop her head.

Dwayne, boyishly handsome in a white knit shirt and faded jeans, had honored her wish to dine on sausage pizza at a little Italian place up in the foothills, but long before midnight, knowing she had to catch an early flight, he agreed they should call it a night. Holding hands and growing increasingly silent, they exited from the creaking elevator on the fifth floor of the White and went to room 56.

When she reached out to flip on the lights, Dwayne's hand stopped her. He slowly pulled her fingers to his chest and said simply, "Dee." Then gently, sculpted lips settled on hers, warm and undemanding. Dwayne again whispered, "Dee, oh, my Dee."

Dee sighed as his kiss became more demanding, filling her with warmth, just as it always did. Her arms went up around his neck. She loved kissing Dwayne. His kisses set her afire; they had from the first. More than once their hunger for each other had made kissing, no matter how wonderful, seem inadequate. Still, Dwayne, though his eyes had looked tortured and his body had trembled with his need, had many time thrust her away from him, stopping short of what they both wanted. Needed.

Not tonight.

Now he was kissing her with unbridled passion and she met his hunger with her own. When their heated lips separated for breath, Dwayne urged Dee toward the bed. She willing took a seat on its edge and watched as he pulled off his shirt.

He took a seat beside her, a long arm going around her shoulders. "Sweetheart," he said huskily, his hand moving up to the swell of her breasts, "it's our last night. Kiss me like it's the last night, honey."

"Dwayne," she murmured and put her palms to his smoothly shaven cheeks. Her soft, moist mouth came up to his. She nibbled at the corner of his mouth, just the way he'd taught her to do. He groaned and pulled her to him.

At last Dwayne's mouth left hers, trailing fiery kisses across her flushed cheek and finally coming to rest on her ear. "Dee, I want to feel you against me. Just for minute, sweetheart, just for a while," he said.

Before she could answer, his mouth took hers again, his tongue thrusting between her parted lips to mate with hers. Deft fingers untied the bow at her nape and gently, caring hands peeled down the white cotton barrier from between them as his lips left hers.

Unhampered by clothes, Dee's full, high breasts rose and fell with her rapid, nervous breaths, and her bottom lip trembled as she lowered her eyes. "Dwayne," she began.

"Sweetheart," he soothed. "You're so beautiful. Don't be embarrassed with me, Dee. Look at me, darling."

Dee wasn't quite certain how or when his practiced, persuasive hands managed to divest her of her lacy underwear. Now, a warm male hand was moving up her trembling thigh, a deep, drugging voice murmuring close to her face, "I have to touch you, Dee. I have to, honey. I won't hurt you, I'd never hurt you."

Moments later they were both naked upon the bed that Dwayne had turned down. With half-emptied glasses of champagne beside them on the beside table, soft music coming from the radio and the scent of roses sweetening the air, the completed the act of love-making upon sheets of ice-blue. Dee knew as Dwayne lowered his sleek, bare body onto hers that the brief pain of his penetration would pale beside the pain of leaving him.

And she was right.

******

At ten o'clock the next morning, Dee, dressed in a tailored suit of beige poplin with a wide multicolored belt, walked through the doors of radio station X104, high atop the Petroleum Club building in downtown Denver. A young woman with hair of auburn and big green eyes looked up, smiled and said, "You have to be Dee Thompson!" The woman jumped up from her chair. "I'm Sherry Jones and I've heard so much about you, Ms. Thompson. Why, it's like having a movie star in the station."

Shaking her head, Dee laughed good-naturedly. "Sherry, I'm flattered, but I'm hardly a star. Is Mr. Calloway busy?"

"Follow me, Ms. Thompson." Sherry was smiling happily.

"Morning, Dee." Mark rose to greet her. When they were alone, he said, "Have a seat and let's go over a few things."

"Mark," Dee said, taking the leather chair across from her old boss, "will you level with me?"

"Why, Dee, haven't I always?" He looked puzzled.

"I'm concerned about Dwayne Johnson." She looked directly into Mark's soft brown eyes.

His broad shoulders slumped. "Dee, what can I tell you? We both know that-"

"Dwayne doesn't want me here. Is that it?"

Mark sighed. "Dee, Dwayne is a pro. When you're on the air together, he'll be just like he was before."

"You didn't answer my question, Mark."

"I'm the general manager of X104. I have to decide what is best for this station."

Dee smiled sadly. "You just answered my question."

Mark smiled with her. "I guess I did. Honey, you and Dwayne will just have to work out any personality problems. I care about one thing-audience."

"Why, Marky, you're as sentimental as every," Dee kidded. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N's: The waiting is over! Dwayne has finally come into the story...lol ;)

Chapter Four

He was tall and muscular and graceful. His hair was a shiny black. His face looked a little leaner, harder, and more handsome than ever. At thirty-one years old, Dwayne Johnson was the peak of his rugged masculine appeal. Dee stared at him in awe. And in fear. His icy, handsome face told her he was sorry she'd returned, and Dee had the uneasy feeling he planned to make her sorry, too.

Coolly assessing her, Dwayne finally nodded and said evenly, "Ms. Thompson.

"Mr. Johnson," Dee returned flatly.

Mark, shaking his head, said, "I'll leave you two be. I've got work to do." Neither Dee nor Dwayne responded.

A deafening silence filled the corner office with Mark's departure. Like wary jungle cats, the two continued to size each other up, standing across from one another. Hands sliding deep into his pockets, Dwayne let his gaze leisurely glide over the small chestnut haired beauty looking at him.

She was dressed more severely than when he'd last seen her. The suit only hinted at the curves he knew were underneath. A muscle flexed in his jaw as his gaze slid over high breasts, her narrow waist, her rounded hips. She was a sophisticated, twenty-four-year-old woman. And, God, help him, she was more desirable than ever.

Slowly turning his back to Dee, he appeared to be peering out the window. In fact, his dark eyes were closed. "Dee, have a chair," he said at last, and turned around.

The intensity had left the chocolate brown eyes, but the coldness had not. "There's a few things we'll need to discuss."

He sat down, lounging back in his swivel chair. Dee cleared her throat needlessly and said, "It's great to be back in Denver, Dwayney B...Dwayne."

"Is it?" He lifted a dark eyebrow and his mouth quirked into a hint of a derisive smile. "I'd think old Denver would be a bit tame for a lady who spent the last five years in L.A."

"I'm a rather tame lady, or don't you remember?" Her level gaze met his.

Wide shoulders lifted slightly. "Ah, that's true, but then that was five years ago. I'm sure you've learned a lot, both professionally and personally." His eyes challenged her to deny it.

"Dwayne, I would certainly hope I've progressed professionally. If not, then I'm in the wrong line of work and I don't believe that. It was you who first told me I had potential, and that I should learn and polish and strive to get better each day, each year. That's exactly what I've done for the past five years."

"All finished?" he asked. Her reply was a narrowing of her eyes. Dwayne shook his head. "Good, now maybe we can get to the business at hand." Rising gracefully, he slowly circled his desk. Dee tensed as he neared her. He stepped directly in front of her chair and half sat, half leaned on his desk. "Where shall we begin?" he mused.

"Why don't you give me your little speech about you being the program director of this station and as such you do all the-"

"Damn you, Dee." He leaned menacingly close. "Mark Calloway may have hired you back, but I'm your boss, do you understand me?" Those brown eyes were flashing fire. "I will indeed give you my speech and I'd advise you to listen. I'm not quite as easygoing as I once was and I can't be pushed around, not even by coffee-haired beauties with big gold eyes and bigger egos."

"Dwayne," Dee interrupted, "will you just wait a-"

"No, Dee, I won't. We both know why you're here. Your career took a downturn, you lost your Los Angeles radio deal and you've come back down to the minor leagues for a while." Slowly, Dwayne leaned forward. He put a hand on either arm of Dee's chair, trapping her. "How long do you plan to stay this time, Miss Thompson? Three months? Six? Till you get a decent off from some radio station in Chicago? Atlanta? Miami?"

Dee looked directly into his eyes. Anger rising rapidly, she lifted her small chin and smiled up at him. "Why, Dwayne-" she leaned closer "-I've no intention of doing anything so foolish." She laughed and shook her head dismissively. "New York, Dwayne. The Big Apple. That would be the proper showcase for my talents, don't you think? That's where I belong."

Dwayne's eyes flickered for one brief instant. His hands left her chair and he stretched to his full, imposing height.

"Baby," he drawled, "that probably is where you belong. One thing is certain, you sure as hell don't belong here."

"All the same, Dwayne, I am her. I'm you partner once again on the morning show and I'll be in the control room at six o'clock tomorrow. Now, if you'd like to run through a practice set, or discuss our first show, I'll sit down and we'll go about this like two intelligent professionals. If not, I'll be going."

Dwayne nodded. "Let's play it by ear in the morning. Might make the show fresher."

"Good enough," Dee agreed, turned and walked to the door. Pausing, she turned to look back at him. "Dwayne?"

"Yes?"

"I see you still have your chinning bar." She smiled. "Do you still chin yourself when something's bothering you?"

Dwayne's face colored and he ignored her question. His voice soft, he said, "See you in the morning, Dee."

When Dee left Dwayne's office and stepped into the corridor, a smiling attractive woman materialized from a office next door. She smiled warmly at Dee.

"Miss Thompson, I'm Janelle Davis, Dwayne secretary. If you'll just come with me, I'll show you to your office."

"Thank you, Janelle." Dee followed the tall, slim woman to a small office all the way down the hall from Dwayne's.

She'd no sooner sat down than her phone rang.

"Dee, it's Mark," came the booming voice. "Hon, I just wanted to let you know that Benny O'Neil, our best salesman, just came in with the keys to the car he got for you over at the Porsche dealership." Dee smiled. The car was part of the deal she'd made in her new contract with X104. "Dee, honey," Mark continued, "a Porsche is all right, isn't it?"

"Mark, I think I'll be able to make do." She laughed. "I'm thrilled to death, who wouldn't be?"

"Good, Dee. Anyway, it's downstairs in the parking lot. I've got the keys when you're ready to leave."

"As a matter of fact," Dee said, "I need to start hunting for an apartment, so if it's all right with you, I think I'll spend the rest of the day looking at a few places."

"Do that, Dee."

"Mark, does Dwayne still live over at the French Quarter Tower by Washington Park?"

"Sure does. Why don't you ask him if they anything available?"

"Hmm," she said, "I will. See you in five minutes for those keys." Dee hung up the phone and left her office, thinking she'd hunt for a place to live as far from the French Quarter Tower as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N's: Hmmm, those threats really do work...lol

Chapter 5

The next morning, Dee arrived at the studios of X104 half an hour early. Dressed in an attractive cowl-necked cotton dress of gold and blue stripes, a wide blue leather belt and matching shoes, she used her key to let herself into the dim reception area. It was eerily quiet.

She crossed the lobby and headed down the long corridor toward her office. Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of her neck. She could sense someone behind her. She whirled around abruptly and bumped into the hard chest of Dwayne Johnson.

Dee let out a little gasp of surprise. Dwayne's hands were on her upper hands, steadying her. Eyes on the level of his throat, Dee's senses were assailed with the scent of his clean, warm skin. Instinctively, she inhaled deeply, loving his familiar yet strange male essence.

As Dwayne set her away from him, Dee looked up at his face. In his eyes was an enigmatic expression. If fled immediately and a look of impatience replaced it.

"I-I didn't hurt you, did I?" she asked.

A mocking grin lifted the corners of his lips. "What do you think?" he said flatly, then turned and walked away.

Dee bit her bottom lip. This was not going to work. An unhappy Dwayne was going to make this first show a disaster. She just knew it. They could no longer work together. She should never have returned.

******

At two minutes before six, Dee left her small office. At the opposite end of the hall, Dwayne did the same. They met at the door to the control room. Wordlessly, Dwayne put a palm to the door and pushed it inward, inclining his dark head.

Dee nodded and stepped past him into the room where bleary-eyes Dan Kitrell was signing off his show. Nodding to the pair, the tired disc jockey said into the microphone, "So that's it for the night people. Be listening again when yours truly, Dan of Darkness, comes back your way." The weary man turned up the volume, letting the last record lead into the 6 o'clock news.

"Hi, folks." He rose, yawned and stretched.

As soon as Dan was gone, Dwayne drew a second chair up beside the one he had just vacated and looked at Dee. "Think you can fill out the federal communications log if I handle everything else?"

Dee slowly circled the control panel, and took the seat directly in front of the console. Swiveling around, she looked up at him and said calmly, "Not only can I handle the FCC log, Dwayne, I can run the board as well. I will cue and spin records, position and play the tapes and run the proper commercials." She smiled sweetly and added, "You just have a seat beside me and charm your listeners."

"Fine," Dwayne said evenly.

Ignoring him, Dee reached out to spin the cassette carousel, familiarizing herself with color-coded dots designating the A, B, and C songs. Turning back to Dwayne, she said crisply, "Where's the playlist, Dwayne?"

"Why, Dee-" his lifted to hers "-this is X104. We don't play the hits here. We make 'em, remember?"

"Yes, I know, but what shall I-"

"It's thirty seconds till time, better pick something." Dwayne leaned forward and pulled the mike into position. Heart hammering, Dee snatched a blue-dotted cassette and shoved it into the recorder just as Dwayne flipped open the key and said in that smooth, sexy voice, "Morning, sleepyheads. It's your old buddy, Dwayne Johnson. The day we've all been waiting for has finally arrived. There's magic in the Mile High City today."

Dwayne's brooding bronze eyes went to Dee as he continued. "I'm sure a lot of you remember the beautiful and talented Dee Thompson, my morning-show partner in the good old days here. Well, she's back and I couldn't be happier. For those who have moved to Denver in the past five years, I'll see if I can't describe Dee for you. She's about five feet three...call it a hundred and two pounds, all in the right places." His eyes were slowly sliding over Dee as he spoke.

"She had the hair of a Greek Goddess, all long and shiny brown. Her eyes are molten gold and so enormous you could lose yourself in them. Her nose is turned up just a bit. Her lips are soft and sweet and- Oh, I can't go on. She's Dee Thompson, she's breathtaking, she's talented, and she's mine. Did I say mine? She's yours, friends, and she's delighted to be back in Denver. Say hello, Dee."

Face flushing, Dee swallowed nervously, leaned closer to the mike and, looking directly into his watchful eyes, said confidently, "Thank you, Dwayne. Hello, Colorado. You'll never know how overjoyed I am to be in my beloved Denver and back on the air with the talented man who taught me all I know."

Dee saw a brief flicker in his eyes and quickly amended, "About broadcasting, that is." Hand trembling, she clutched the mike and concluded, "I'll be seeing all of you old friends real soon, since Dwayne and I plan lots of personal appearances. Keep listening and give us a call now and then to let us know you're there. Now how about a little music?" Dee pushed a button and music filled the control room.

Half an hour later, the phone began ringing off the wall. Raves poured in. Listeners loved the easy banter and great rapport between Dwayne and Dee. Their timing was perfect, as though they'd never been apart. They could practically read one another's minds.

The fire between them still burned. At least in the control room of the radio station.

They took turns answering the busy phones, cuing records, logging the commercials and talking into the mikes. The four-hour show flew past and Dee was shocked when Dwayne said, "Lead 'em into the last song, Dee. It's two minutes till ten."

When the last song came up in volume, she turned to him-happy, relieved, longing for his approval.

"You're good, Dee, very good. Better than ever," he said, shaking his dark head.

Dee instinctively reached out and put a hand of his dark forearm. "I should be," she said softly, leaning toward him. "You taught me all I know."

Feeling the ripple of muscles beneath his shirtsleeve, Dee drew a sharp breath when Dwayne asked casually, "Have you anything planned for this coming Saturday morning?"

They didn't work on Saturdays.

"Why, no, I don't, Dwayne," she said in a whisper.

"Good," he responded. "There's a charity touch-football game at ten between X140 and channel ten television. Be a good idea if you'd agree to play."

Disappointed, Dee stammered, "I...why sure, I'll be glad to do it."

Dwayne walked away. "Come by my office and get a X104 T-shirt. You own a pair of white shorts, I'm sure."

"Yes, but why can't I wear jeans?"

Dwayne paused at the door. "This is show biz, babe. People want to look at you in a tight T-shirt and a pair of shorts that show off your legs."

"Well-" Dee followed him "-maybe I don't want to show off my legs and my...my..."

"Come off it, Dee," Dwayne said coldly. "You rode in a Los Angeles parade in a damned brief bikini that almost showed your..." He slammed out of the door and was gone.

Dee, face pink, gritted her teeth and stormed out to the privacy of her office. She fumed for several minutes before wondering aloud, "How did Dwayne know about a parade I was in four years ago?"


	6. Chapter 6

A/N's: Ya gotta love football....;)

Chapter Six

Dee stood on the sunny balcony of her new high-rise apartment overlooking Westerman Park and dried her hair.

It was Saturday morning. The week had passed quickly; the hours spent of the air with Dwayne had been exciting, fun, like old times. Off the air, it was a different story. Dwayne had little to do with her and his black mood had gone unnoticed by no one.

Dee was all too aware that Dwayne's bad humor was because of she was back, but the depth of his displeasure was puzzling. She'd been young and very ambitious. When she'd been offered a slot at one of L.A.'s top radio stations, she'd accepted, despite the fact that she was in love with Dwayne Johnson.

Over and over again she'd asked him if she was doing the right thing. Each time she'd hoped he'd beg her to stay in Denver. But his answer was always that it was a great opportunity and she must make up her own mind. Even on that last night, when Dwayne had made love to her for the first and last time, he still did not tell her to stay.

Dee shook her head, rose and went inside to dress for the charity football game.

******

The referee's whistle found the center for the X104 team bent over the ball, hands firmly on the pigskin, knees bent, bottom pointed skyward, ready to snap the ball to the waiting quarterback who, brown hands reaching between the legs of the nervous center, called the play in a deep and commanding voice.

Dee snapped the ball to Dwayne and the game between the X104 Spinners and the Channel Ten Glossies was under way. Dwayne rapidly backpedaled, ball in his right hand. Dee, not quite certain what to do next, ran toward the opponents, looking back over her shoulder at Dwayne.

He pumped once, then threw a spiraling pass to his buddy, deejay Jeff Groen. Perfectly thrown, the ball landed right on target and Jeff managed to run five yards before he was tagged by a laughing channel ten anchorwoman.

Dee clapped happily, lined up for the next play and bent over the ball. She let her eyes slide up to the pair of well-tended brown hands in position between her legs. Dwayne was hunched so closely over her she could feel his body heat, his breath. Dee shivered, bit her lip and looked down again.

Dwayne, his powerful body bent close to Dee's, tried just as desperately to keep his mind on the game. It was difficult with that cute rear, clad in white shorts, pointed in the air. It was agony to put his hands near those creamy thighs.

The game continued and Dwayne's performance rapidly deteriorated form brilliant to just plain lousy. Before the first quarter had ended, channel ten was leading X104 by a score of seventeen to nothing.

Only Dwayne, and perhaps Dee, knew where the problem lay. When he informed her he was changing her playing position, Dee merely nodded. 

Dwayne relaxed and became the formidable competitor he'd been in past years. Dee was delighted with her new position and when, later in the game, he threw her a perfectly aimed pass, Dee took off running for the goal line. She'd only gone a few yards before a muscular blond channel ten salesman caught up with her.

He grabbed for her T-shirt, pulling it hard, and Dee forgot it was only touch football. She tried to wrench away from the grinning, good-looking Russell Underhill. She heard the tear of her shirt just as she hit the grassy ground. The big blond man came crashing down on top of her. Dee, unhurt, laughed and so did he. Dee was on her back, the football still clutched tightly. Russ was on his stomach, his broad torso partially covering hers.

Fans in the stand were applauding. Teammates from both sides were whistling and cheering. Dee and Russ were laughing uproariously, struggling to untangle arms and legs. When a shadow fell across them, Dee looked up to see a livid Dwayne Johnson.

Mouth thinned into a tight line, eyes snapping, Dwayne jerked her to her feet with such force and speed that her head rocked on her shoulders. Strong fingers gripping her arm, he demanded, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Underhill?"

Still smiling, Russ rose. "Why so edgy, Johnson? I didn't hurt her, did I, sweetheart?" He looked down at Dee.

"He didn't, Dwayne, really. It was my fault, I..."

Dwayne ignored her. "Underhill, this girl weighs a hundred pounds, you weigh two hundred. Fall on her again and you'll answer to me, you got that?"

"Meaning?"

"Read my lips, Underhill. Touch her again and I'll come after you. I weigh two hundred pounds, too."

The big blond man's smile stayed in place. "What if I took her out to dinner, Johnson?" His eyes went to Dee. "I was just going to invite her when you interrupted."

Dwayne released Dee's arm. "You do that, Underhill." He turned to walk away. "On the playing field, stay off her!"

******

Dee, riding back to the station after the game, which X104 had won, pondered the events of the morning. Dwayne was not in the limo she rode in.

It had been arranged prior to the game that the losing team would treat the winner's to beer and pizza at Griminzo's, the local pizza shop. Laughing, happy people piled out of the limo and headed directly across the street. Dee watched them go, promising she'd meet them there in then minutes. In fact, she had no intention of going. She wanted only to be alone, to consider for herself why Dwayne had become so angry when she'd tumbled to the ground with Russ.

Dee saw the other limo, the one Dwayne had taken back, empty at the curb. Its occupants had already streamed into the cozy pub. Dee went up to the studios. They were deserted, save for the weekend substitute doing his air trick. Dee was thankful for the privacy as she headed for her office.

A loud noise from Dwayne's office stopped her at his door.

Obviously thinking he was alone, Dwayne, his face contorted, threw his other shoe across the room. It made the same loud thud as the first one. His back to Dee, he jerked his soiled white T-shirt over his head and threw it after the shoes.

Dee stood watching his beautiful, bare back, sweat-slick and shiny, lift with his breaths. Feeling her eyes on him at last, he slowly turned around and started toward her.

His eyes blazed with an undeniable look of passion that both frightened and excited her. Feeling her knees turn to water, Dee waited, eager for his strong arms to pull her against him, longing for those lips to crush hers.

It never happened.

Stopping directly in front of her, Dwayne said, "Why aren't you at Griminzo's?" His voice was tired, flat.

"Why aren't you?" she responded softly.

His wide bare shoulders rose, then slowly fell. "Dee," he said, and it was a plea, "leave me alone. Please...please, leave me alone."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N's: Gee, lets see how many other ways I can throw these two together shall we? :)...;)

Chapter Seven

That's exactly what Dee did. She left Dwayne alone. They did their morning show each day and during those four hours they were the only two people in the world. Together they were on a madcap romp-laughing, teasing, flirting, dueling, and enjoying every precious minute of it. The Dwayne-and-Dee show got better each every day.

How shocked the radio audience would have been if they could have seen the change that took place when ten o'clock rolled around each morning. As on turns off a spurting faucet, Dwayne would turn off the charm, rise from his chair and, without so much as a "see you later," depart for his office.

Shortly before noon one Monday, Dee answered the phone to hear Janelle Davis's soft voice. "If you aren't too busy, Dee, could I come by your office and speak to you about your costume for the Columbus Day parade?"

"Of course, Janelle. If fact, I'm getting hungry. Why don't you and I grab a salad or a sandwich together?"

Half an hour later the two women sat at the Café Moonlight in Larimer Square, the beautifully restored older part of downtown Denver.

Dee sipped her wine. "Dwayne tells me the theme of this year's parade is to be the old west."

"Yes, I think it will be great fun." Janelle smiled. "Dwayne's going to ride a beautiful black horse."

"Will I be riding too?" Dee asked, her love of horses was well known.

"No, Dwayne said you'll be riding on the X104 float. He also mentioned what he'd like you to wear?"

"Oh?"

"Yes, he'd like you to be the schoolmarm." Janelle patted her mouth with a linen napkin.

"No, Janelle. That would be as dull as dishwater." Dee smiled. "My crafty partner. He's to make a grand, dashing figure atop a coal-black stallion while little Miss Thompson sits on a float dressed in a white blouse, long skirt, and her hair in a bun."

"Perhaps you could dress up as Annie Oakley, then." Janelle looked at Dee expectantly.

"Was that Dwayne's idea, too?"

Janelle's face reddened. "Yes. He said you might not like the schoolmarm idea, so..."

"He's so right. Nor do I intend to be Annie Oakley. Order me a dance-hall dress. I'd like a flamboyant eye-catching satin outfit with mesh hose and a feathered hat and-What's wrong?"

Janelle, an expression of displeasure on her face, was shaking her head. "Dee, you can't do that."

"Oh, yes, I can." Dee leaned forward. "Did Dwayne tell the rest of the air personalities what to wear?"

"That's different, Dee."

Dee frowned. "Why? Because I'm a woman? Because he's older and thinks I'm still a kid?" Dee was growing angry.

"That's unfair, Dee. Dwayne just-"

"Janelle, you're a very nice lady, but you're too damned protective of Dwayne!"

"Yes, I suppose I am," Janelle admitted sadly. "Just as Dwayne is overly protective of you."

"Janelle, I'm sorry. I know that-"

"Don't be. Dwayne has never thought of me as anything other than a friend. But I'll tell you something, Dee, hurt him and I'll snatch you bald-headed."

Dee smiled and touched Janelle's hand. "I like you, Janelle Davis."

"Same here." Janelle grinned.

"Order me that costume and don't tell Dwayne."

"I will-and I won't."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N's: For a few minutes there I thought maybe u guys weren't interested in this fic anymore...but Dani, u brought me back. Thanks so much chica! Also, looks like Dee's wearing something she shouldn't...naughty, naughty Dee! ;)

Chapter 8

Bright October sunlight caused Dee to open her eyes and blink. She knew she'd overslept. Groaning, she tossed back the covers, took a quick shower, and pulled on her jeans and a sweat shirt.

The Columbus Day parade was to begin promptly at ten o'clock on the Saturday before the actual holiday. Dee, used to rising early every morning, hadn't set her alarm, certain she'd awake with time to spare.

Now, at five after nine, she was speeding toward the station in her blue Porsche. She roared into the parking lot and up to her office where a note was tapped to the door.

"Dee, your costume is in Dwayne's office, Janelle."

Dee turned and sped down the hall. The station was quiet. All the other participants were already at the parade site or across the street at Griminzo's. Dee threw open the door to Dwayne's office, saw a big box on the couch, and drew out a green satin dress, a matching garter, a pair of black mesh hose, and very high heels. The green satin hat had a curling green feather.

Dee smiled and slammed the door closed. She soon stood frowning before the big mirror. Mesh hose and high heels on, satin hat pinned atop her upswept hair, Dee was frantically trying to hook up the back of the tight dress. Arms bent behind her, she fumbled with the stubborn hooks, her cheeks staining a bright red.

Her high breasts were practically spilling from the snug bodice. The full skirt reached her knees, but the hem was folded back over the dress at one point, showing off white, frilly ruffles as well as a stockinged leg. The green garter was visible upon her left thigh. Momentarily wishing she'd dressed up as a schoolmarm, Dee gasped when the office door opened.

In the portal a tall, dark cowboy stood gaping at her. Booted feet apart, the intruder's brown eyes flashed with menace. A tailored shirt of snowy white stretched across muscular shoulders; a star of shiny silver flashed upon his chest. Tight black trousers revealed the lean, hard muscles of his thighs. Around his narrow hips, a gun belt of smooth leather rode low, a silver pistol in the holster. Upon his head was a pearl-gray Stetson, and on his hands, gloves of black kid leather.

"Dwayne!" she gasped, clutching frantically at her open dress.

His eyes raking over her, he took a step inside, closing the door behind him. Dee met his furious gaze, although her stomach was doing a flip-flop and her hands were trembling.

She lifted her chin and said, "Dwayne, could you help me fasten my costume? I'm having a little trouble with the hooks." She smiled sweetly at him as though she'd not noticed his displeasure.

Dwayne couldn't keep from smiling back. Rigid body relaxing, he replied, "I'm not Dwayne. I'm the marshal ma'am, and I ought to arrest you for going about half-naked."

Relief flooding her body, Dee laughed and took up the game. "Oh, marshal, please don't take me to jail. I'll be plenty hooked up." She batted long eyelashes at him.

"I doubt that." He grinned, his eyes moving to the swell of her breasts. "But I'll do what I can." He pulled off his gloves and came to stand behind her. Nimble brown fingers went to the tiny hooks at her waist. "Move your hands, Dee, and I'll have this taken care of in a minute."

"I'm all yours," she said, smiling, and felt warm hands brushing the bare skin of her back as Dwayne tugged at the tiny hooks. A shiver went up her spine. She wondered if he felt it. All at once the big hands stilled, left the dress, and gently cupped her bare shoulders. Turning his head, he lowered his lips to her nape, kissing her lightly. He looked at her in the mirror opposite and said softly, "What am I doing dressing you when all I've ever wanted to do is undress you?"

Dee opened her mouth, but no words would come. A little gasp escaped her lips and Dwayne pulled her back against his tall, hard frame. He pressed his open lips to the sensitive cord going down her neck.

"Dwayney-Boy," her nickname for Dwayne rolled easily off her tongue in a hushed whisper. She tilted her head to give him total access.

"Dee," he murmured hoarsely, while he nibbled tenderly. "Why do you have to be so sweet?" His tongue teased at the tender spot beneath her ear. "Why must I feel I'll starve without the taste of you?"

Dee sighed and turned her face toward his. Dwayne's lips lifted and her looked into her shining gold eyes. He moaned and slowly lowered his mouth to her soft, parted lips. He kissed her with restrained passion, trying desperately to control the fire she'd kindled in him. But when their lips separated, his eyes dropped to catch the brief, fleeting glimpse of the rosy-hued crest of a creamy white breast.

It was his total undoing.

Dwayne groaned, pulled her back against him once again and let his hands slide up her rib cage to the top of the dress. With his lips in her hair and his deep, drugging voice whispering her name, he slowly peeled the green satin down to her waist. Dee didn't protest as, with a gentleness that left her breathless, those sure hands moved up her trembling body, tenderly cupping her bare breasts.

Unbelieveable warmth and pleasure quickly flooded Dee's being. Open-mouthed, she kissed his smooth cheek, licking a line along his chiseled jaw.

"Dee." His voice was husky. "Dee, honey, open your eyes."

Face still turned, she let her eyes open and gasped when she cut them across the room toward the mirror. "Dwayne." She bit her bottom lip and once again closed her eyes.

"No, sweet," he pleaded. "Open your eyes and look. Look at us, honey. Oh, you're so beautiful."

Face flushed, Dee opened her eyes again. In the mirror two eager lovers were caught and framed.

Dwayne's hands reluctantly left her breasts; he turned her in his arms and pulled her up against his tall, hard, body. His mouth lowered to hers and all restraint was gone. Hungrily, deeply, he kissed her, holding her head in his spread fingers to press her closer. Sighing into his mouth, Dee pushed the Stetson from his head and ran an eager hand up in this black hair, her senses reeling from the heated mouth devouring hers.

Dee was vaguely aware of something on Dwayne's broad chest pressing into her naked shoulder. It was mildly abrasive, and soon forgotten when his hot, wet tongue dipped deeper, finally drawing her own into his mouth.

Weak, dizzy, thrumming with desire, Dee clung to him, loving the feel of his mouth, his hands moving over her bare back and finally sliding to her satin-clad hips to press her ever closer to the pulsing, throbbing hardness straining against his tight black trousers.

"Hey, Johnson." Jeff Groen's voice was followed by pounding on the door.

"Dwayne!" Dee gasped, horrified.

Dwayne, eyes still glazed with passion, stepped protectively in front of Dee, shielding her should Jeff open the door. "Be right with you, Jeffrey." His voice was just a bit shaky. "Stay where you are, we're on our way out." Broad chest rising and falling rapidly, Dwayne deftly hooked up Dee's dress.

"All done," he whispered and she turned to face him. Dwayne winced. There on her delicate white shoulder, red blotches from the punishing silver star on his chest looked tender and raw. "Dee, I'm sorry," he said, and Dee knew he was apologizing for more than chapped flesh. Before she could respond, he retrieved his Stetson and hurried her to the door.

Jeff Groen, dressed as a piano player in an old-time sporting house, stood with his arms folded. "I was beginning to..." His words trailed off as he looked from Dwayne to Dee and back again. Eyes twinkling, his lips began lifting into a pleased smile.

"Open your mouth and I'll shut it for you, Jeffrey." Dwayne glared down at him. Jeff remained silent, but he winked at Dee. She couldn't keep from smiling.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N's: I would have had this chapter up yesterday...but my works program wasn't working for some reason. Then after I gave up on my computer I was busily rereading my fist chapter of my new fic "The Children's Crusade." (hint, hint, wink, wink ;)...shameless self-plug)

Chapter 9

The Columbus Day parade was a crowd-pleasing, spectacular success. Marching bands from across the state, equestrian units, huge flower-laden floats, precision drill teams and unicycle-riding clowns all drew applause.

The X104 float was positioned near the very end of the procession. At a felt-topped table, deejays Dan Kitrell, Nick Wheeler, Zach Heins and one of the salespeople sat playing cards, stacks of colored chips in front of them. Sherry Jones, in a long blue brocade dress, a black feather boa around her neck, was the dealer.

At a polished mahogany bar, the imposing bartender was Mark Calloway, who smiled warmly at Dee as Jeff lifted her atop the bar. "By the way," Jeff whispered, "did Dwayne mention that he is supposed to rid by, rope you and-"

"No!" Dee hoped he was teasing.

"I'm getting worried about Johnson. He's mighty forgetful lately." He tweaked his false mustache, adding, "If you see him riding up, you're to raise your arms, okay?"

"But, Jeff-" She gritted her teeth.

"Not my idea." He shrugged merrily and took his seat at the old player piano.

Dee, her legs crossed, sat atop the bar and waved to the onlookers. They fully approved of her glittering green garb and many ran up to the slow-traveling float to get her autograph, to touch her hand, to say how much they enjoyed the morning show.

Gracious, she smiled and waved an posed prettily, all the while thinking of what had happened just prior to the parade. It was all she could do to keep from touching her lips, as though the imprint of Dwayne's masterful mouth would still be there. Invisible though it was, his brand was on her. It had been from the first time he'd ever kissed her.

There'd been men in her life in California. She'd shared kisses with a few that had made her heart speed pleasantly, but Dwayne Johnson was the only man for her. There'd never been another lover. She'd been a virgin when Dwayne had so tenderly taken her on that never-to-be-forgotten night. With his possession of her willing, innocent body, he'd become the holder of her heart.

"Hey, Dwayne!" Someone shouting his name snapped Dee's head around. "Why isn't your partner riding with you?"

Dee's eyes went to the commanding figure astride a huge black horse, as Dwayne advanced on the float.

Hat titled low over one eye, white teeth flashing, Dwayne easily reined the prancing black stallion, moving steadily closing. To the waving, admiring crowd, he shouted, "You know, I think my pretty partner should be with me at all times." His eyes gleamed and Dee colored, reading a personal meaning into his careless words.

Dwayne pulled the horse up, directing his attention, and that of the crowd, to a nervous, smiling Dee. When he tipped his hat to them and unhooked a coiled lariat, they went wild.

"Yup," he drawled dramatically, "I think that little filly belongs in the custody of the marshal, just for being so danged beautiful. Don't y'all?"

Loud applause and piercing whistles were his answer.

When a perfectly thrown rope fell over her head and tightened at her waist, Dee blinked and winced. Arms pinned at her sides, she felt helpless. Dwayne urged his horse closer, lithely stood in the saddle, and in one fluid movement, plucked Dee from the bar.

Someone softly screamed and Dee realized it must have been her as Dwayne pressed her back against his chest and said, "Don't be afraid, Dee. I'd never let you fall." And after deftly removing the rope, he held Dee as they rode the prancing stallion down the street.

Dee forgot her fear Dwayne letting her fall and waved gaily to the cheering crowd. How could she be frightened? The man she loved had her in his protecting arms. Dee was sure that as soon as she and Dwayne could be alone...

Stomach fluttering, eyes sparkling, Dee mentally planned what she would wear on this evening of evenings. She had no doubt that Dwayne would want to take her out to dinner or come to her place for a meal.

She could wear the new blue loose-knit sweater and suede skirt if they had dinner at her place; if he wanted to go out, she'd wear the daring V-backed black silk. It was sexy and elegant and he was sure to like it.

The parade finished at the far end of Broadway. There, Janelle Davis, at the wheel of Dwayne's black Mercedes, waited to drive Dwayne, Dee and Jeff back to the station.

Dee was stunned when Dwayne, after helping her down from the horse, passed the reins to a waiting stable boy and walked to the car. He climbed into the front passenger seat, leaving her standing.

A warm hand gripped her elbow and Jeff's familiar voice said, "I see ol' 'strong and silent' is cranky again." He laughed and walked her to the car.

Janelle, turning to speak to Dee and Jeff, gasped and asked bluntly, "Dee. Your shoulder! It's all pink and raw. What happened?"

Dee, her face turning just as pink, said evenly, "I suppose it's some sort of allergy."

Jeff his Dwayne's shoulder and said wickedly, "Yeah, she's either allergic to horses or to Dwayne...."

A dark head swung around and Dwayne fixed Jeff with a hard stare. "Your stale humor may go over with your listeners, but I find it offensive. I told you earlier, shut your damned mouth or I'll do it for you."

Unruffled, Jeff winked at Dee and laughed. Janelle, shaking her head, drove back to the station.

To Dee's shock, Dwayne slid under the wheel as soon as they all got out. "I'll see you guys later," he said, and drove away.

"There goes a real jerk," Jeff said.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N's: I want to thank you guys so much for reviewing my fic The Children's Crusade. I really like it so far, and it means a lot to me that you would take the time to read it. So, thanks so much! 

Chapter Ten

By the time Dee had changed back into her jeans and was driving home, the bright sunshine had departed. A cold winter rain was beginning as she pulled into the underground garage.

All afternoon, Dee's unhappy eyes kept going to the silent telephone. Why didn't Dwayne call? Why didn't he come over? How could he be so passionate and loving one minute, so cold and uncaring the next?

It was dark when she went to her closest and pulled out a raincoat. The windshield wipers made an irritating sound as she drove across town.

Dee wheeled into the only space in front of the elegant French Quarter Tower, parked and jumped out of the car. Dee gave the uniformed doorman a charming smile and pointed upward, then shrugged as though she'd lost her key.

The man nodded and threw open the heavy glass door. Dee rushed inside, relieved. If she'd had to ring Dwayne's buzzer, she was not at all sure he'd have let her in.

Dee stood, wondering what had possessed her, on the nineteenth floor, just outside the door of Dwayne's penthouse. She knocked decisively.

"Yeah, it's open," came the irascible male voice.

Dee cringed and thought of fleeing. Cold hand on the shiny brass knob, she pushed the door and stepped inside. Slowly she closed it behind her.

It was dark in the big room. Only one light burned and it was an elbow lamp on a glass-topped table. A half-full bottle of Jack Daniels sat beneath it, a glass of the amber liquid beside the bottle. A dark hand slowly moved from the darkness to curl its fingers around the glass.

A faceless voice from the shadows said coldly, "Is there something you need?"

"Yes," Dee said resolutely, and shrugged out of her wet raincoat. She descended the three steps into the big pine-paneled room and walked toward the light.

Dwayne remained where he was, lounging in a leather easy chair. He wore no shoes, no shirt.

Dee stood above him, straining to see. "Can I offer you a drink? There's ice in the..."

"I don't want a drink, Dwayne." Dee warily took a seat on the big soft ottoman beside his bare foot. "And it's not like you to drink either."

"How the hell do you know what's like me?"

Dee looked into his angry eyes; then Dwayne leaned back into the darkness again. "You never used to drink, Dwayney-Boy."

"My name is Dwayne. Stop calling me Dwayney-Boy. I didn't used to do a lot of things, Dee. People change."

"Yes, they do. But, still, I-"

"This is the first time I've had more than one or two social drinks in over ten years, so if you're worried I've a drinking problem, kindly forget it."

"I wasn't. That's not why I-"

"Then what? Tell me, Dee. What are you doing here?"

Dee rose and swept around the big room turning on lamps. "I cannot talk to someone I can's see," she told a blinking, frowning Dwayne. She came back to him, dropped on the footstool, and said, "We have to talk, Dwayne. About what happened today in your office."

"What happened today? Did something happen today?

"Don't be flip with me, Dwayne Johnson!" Dee leaned toward him. "You know very well what I'm talking about. You held me and you-"

Dwayne sighed. "I'm sorry. God, you'd think I'd get tired of saying that, wouldn't you?" He smiled and looked up at her. "I am sorry, Dee. I was out of line and I behaved like a teenager whose hormones were raging."

"That's all it was?"

"What else?"

With speed and grace that surprised her, he leaned up and placed both feet on the floor, trapping her inside his bent knees. "Listen to me, Dee, because I'm tired of repeating myself. I gave you your first break because you were talented. Then I fell- Then I foolishly began a relationship with you because you were so damned sweet and irresistible. It's always foolish to get involved with someone you work with-it's downright destructive when that person is a young, willful girl with burning ambition and the skill to realize her dreams."

"There was nothing wrong with our relationship, Dwayne. What we had was-"

"Special?" he interrupted icily. His lips curled cruelly, his eyes snapping. He tossed down a long swallow of Jack Daniels and leaned back once more.

"It was special, Dwayne. It was. That last night was-"

"A mistake. A terrible blunder on my part, but I said, I'm a little sick of saying I'm sorry. Take all the wrongs I've done to you and make a list. Then I'll check it off with the right number of I'm sorry's."

Dee shook her aching head. "I don't want apologies, I want-I want us be like we were in your office this afternoon. I want you-"

"To take you to bed?" He leaned forward. "That it, Dee?"

"No, Dwayne, I don't want you to take me to bed," she said sadly, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. "I want you to make love to me. There is a difference, you know."

"Oh, really?" He lifted heavy brows. "Well, thanks, darling, for telling me. I had no idea. I thought sure..."

"Damn you, Dwayne Johnson. Don't you patronize me! What happened between us five years ago was an act of love-I know it, you know it. I'll never believe otherwise."

"So how in hell could you get out of my bed and catch a plane to the coast?" He was back up now, his face close to hers. "Answer that one, little miss authority on human relation!" His eyes were filled with fury. "My God, I couldn't believe it. I made love to you half the night. I told you over and over how much I loved you and I'll be damned if you didn't leave me without so much as a parting kiss. Can you imagine how I felt when I woke up to find you gone?" He shook his head as if to clear it.

Tears now streaming down her cheeks, Dee said softly, "Why didn't you tell me to stay? Why? I never would have-"

"Stop! Stop it," he said in a voice as cold as the rain streaking down the two-story glass behind them. "You're a great actress, Dee, but it wont work anymore, at least not with this boy. I've seen the movie, read the book, know all your moves, honey." Dwayne was started smiling. "You know, you're like everyone else, me included. You find it impossible to face the truth about yourself. Am I right?" Dee looked at him, tears falling freely. "You were ambitious and you got a great offer to go to L.A. Now, you'd have gone even if I'd begged you to stay, but since I didn't, it's a great little escape for you, isn't it? You can always piously tell yourself that everything is my fault. Big, bad ol' Dwayne took your virginity. Old loser Dwayne resented your success. Cold, uncaring Dwayne let you go away."

"Well, babe, just between you and me, let's face the facts here. You did exactly what you wanted to do. People usually do, though hardly any of us can ever face it. As for me, well you're right, I resented your success, was jealous of it. That suit you?"

"No, it doesn't," Dee said sadly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "Dwayne, I wish I'd never...I want..."

"Too late, darlin'." He shook his head. "Way too late for regrets. But cheer up, Dee. You are better than ever on the air. It's just a matter of a few months that you'll be stuck here." Dwayne rose and walked to the tall glass windows. Looking out at the rain-soaked city, he said, "It's already the middle of October. We got into the Arbitron audience-rating period the first of November. By no later than mid-January, the book with be out. If we get good numbers-and I'm sure we will-you'll get a New York offer in no time at all." He lifted his bare shoulders and said, "Then that'll be it. You'll be back on your way."

Dee rose, walked to him and lifted a hand to rest on the small of his back. He flinched. "Dwayne," she said softly, "I'm leaving now, but I'll tell you something. When I get into my bed tonight, I'll be remembering how you held me and kissed me this morning." She paused and sighed. "And you know what, so will you." Dee let her hand fall away. Impulsively she leaned to him, kissed a bare shoulder blade, turned and hurried across the room to her coat.

Dwayne Johnson never turned around.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N's: After the somberness of my last chapter, this is much better. Besides, who doesn't love a good shopping trip? ;)

Chapter Eleven

It was a very businesslike Dee Thompson who said hello to her co-host on Monday morning. It was a pleasant, cooperative Dwayne Johnson who greeted her, as though the encounter on Saturday had never happened. "We've got ten minutes, Dee." He looked at his watch. "I forgot to mention to you last week, we've been invited to host a dance the Denver Cancer Society is holding at McNichols Arena. It's a fifties type sock hop." Dwayne made a face. "They want us to be king and queen of the hop." He lifted wide shoulders. "Can you make it? It's scheduled for this coming Friday night."

"Sure, I can make it." Dee smiled. "Sound like fun."

"Good." He nodded. "One more thing-on Halloween night the Valley Orphans Home is having their annual party for the kids, and I thought, well..."

"Count on me," Dee said.

"Dee, it's not a personal appearance. What I mean is, we don't get paid for this one. The children's party would strictly be volunteer."

"I'll be there, Dwayne," she assured him. "And I'm happy to do it for free."

"Thanks, Dee." He got up and came around the desk. Together they headed for the control room. "_Mile High _magazine called last week. They want an interview at our convenience. I said I'd give them a call."

"Fine," Dee agreed, "any afternoon this week is good."

"I'll set it up," he said, while from the monitor came Dan Kitrell's voice. "So stay tuned for the upcoming Dwayne-and-Dee show and I'll be back with you tomorrow...."

******

The November issue of _Mile High _hit the newsstands on the first day of the month, the very day the Arbitron rating period began at X104 and at every other radio station in town. On the magazine's slick cover, a handsome couple smiled into the camera.

The caption read, "Denver's hottest duo." Inside, a well-written story about the pair spread over six pages with more photographs of Dwayne and Dee.

The Arbitron audience ratings where under way, and they outdid themselves to make their morning show entertaining. To further ensure success, they increased their personal appearances, sometimes doing as many as three a week.

Mark Calloway was fully approving, urging the pair to get out and be seen at every opportunity. Dee was more than eager to make the appearances. Not only was it beneficial for the station, it constantly threw her and Dwayne together. She kept hoping that in time, if she was very, very, patient, he'd come around. She had decided that she'd never again push him or plead with him. He was a proud and stubborn man and she knew that he alone would be the aggressor should he change his mind. There was little she could do but try to show him, by her actions, that she could be trusted. She could do nothing but wait.

As though he could sense the change in Dee, Dwayne seemed to relax. There were no more kisses, not tortured glances, no evidence of strain and stress. Dee wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but she reasoned that if they were ever to recover the closeness that had once been theirs, they'd first need to become friends.

******

Rating period ended on December fifteenth, and at 10:00 a.m., Dwayne Johnson turned off his mike, rose from his chair and let out a loud shout of relief. Dee stuck her hand out and said merrily, "Shake, partner. We did it!"

"We sure did, baby," Dwayne said, and ignoring her hand, wrapped his long arms around her and crushed her to his tall frame. He rocked her back and forth in uninhibited glee and Dee thought she surly die of happiness. Instinctively, she molded her small body to his, and tentatively lifting her hands, she put them to Dwayne's trim waist. The rocking ceased. The laughter died. Dwayne, as though coming to his senses, eased her away from him.

"Okay, you guys-" Jeff stuck his head in the door "-it's time to celebrate. Be at Griminzo's in fifteen minutes for champagne brunch." He was gone before they replied.

"Hungry?" Dwayne smiled down at her.

"Famished," she replied.

"Shall we?" He took her hand in his.

"We shall."

******

Two days prior to Christmas, Dee was to fly to Miami, Florida, to meet her parents at her uncle's home in Mims. Before she left, she knocked on Dwayne's closed door and went inside. She carried a slim box wrapped in silver paper.

Dwayne rose and said, "So you're off to the airport?"

"My plane leaves in an hour," she confirmed. "I just wanted to give you your present before I go."

"Dee," he said, "you shouldn't have. I didn't want you to-"

She thrust the package to him. "I wanted to."

Dwayne patiently worked the ribbon and paper away. "Just what I needed." He smiled warmly at her, looking at the gold pen inside.

"Wait, Dee." He laid the pen aside, and took a small box from his desk drawer. Shyly he handed it to her.

"Thank you," Dee managed and started backing away.

"Why don't you open it?"

"Sure," she said. Inside, she found a soft red-leather case containing a tiny camera no larger than a cigarette lighter. It was of shiny yellow gold.

"It actually works," Dwayne announced. "And you'll be needing it."

"Why?"

Dwayne grinned. "Because we're escorting a planeload of people to Paradise Island in the Bahamas in mid-January." He loved the surprise on her face.

"Dwayne, you mean it?"

"I'll tell you all about it when you get back." He guided her to the door. "Have a Merry Christmas, Dee."

"You, too, Dwayne," she said, and felt his warm lips brush her cheek. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, you, too!" 

******

It was warm in Florida. Dee was happy to see her parents, who'd flown down from New York. Uncle Jim had decorated his palatial beachside home with every kind of ornament and Aunt Marilyn had obviously been cooking for weeks.

Dee received loads of lovely gifts from her family. So all were puzzled when, the very day after Christmas she rose early, ate a large breakfast and announced she was going to spend the day shopping.

Dee borrowed one of her uncle's cars and headed for the exclusive Mims' shops with a mysterious smile on her face.

The one thing on her mind was the Bahamas with Dwayne Johnson. Dee had the glorious premonition that it would be there, in that island paradise, that the man she loved to distraction would at long last surrender.

Dee went from boutique to boutique searching for clothes to take on her trip. By the time the desert sun was slipping below the horizon, the borrowed Jimmy's roomy trunk and back seat were filled with her purchases. 


	12. Chapter 12

A/N's: Ah...the Bahamas....the land of enchantment. *wistful sigh* 

Chapter 12

On January twentieth, Dwayne Dee were in high spirits upon landing at Miami International. From there, motor coaches took the group to the pier where a sleek cruise ship stood gleaming white in the warm Florida sun.

Dee, her face awash with pleasure, clung to Dwayne's hand and hurried up onto the sun deck, saying happily, "Help me find my stateroom?"

Dwayne chuckled. "Gladly. It's next door to mine." He led her down two levels to the promenade deck, where the prized outside staterooms were located. Dee's eyes swept over the red and white interior with its window offering a view of the sea. Then she poked her head into the bathroom.

"Dwayne! There's even a tub." Before he could answer, she was pulling the card from a bon-voyage basket of fruit. "How sweet," she said. "It's from the entire staff of X104." She lowered the card and saw them. A dozen Happiness roses in a crystal vase on the night table. Dee looked nervously at Dwayne, afraid to assume anything. The mysterious depths of his eyes gave nothing away.

Dee read the card as she inhaled the roses' fragrance. When she turned Dwayne was smiling at her. "Thank you," she said softly, and put a hand to his strong jaw. She stood on tiptoe and gave his smooth cheek a kiss. He seemed neither pleased nor perplexed. 

"Meet you topside in fifteen minutes," he said.

Dee stripped off her sweater the minute he closed the door. She liked the look that came into his eyes when she joined him at the ship's railing-and even better the feel of his arm coming around her waist to draw her closer. They stood high above the pier, waving to the crowd below, and Dee threw back her head and laughed as the ship maneuvered out of the bay toward the open Atlantic.

"You should try to cheer up, Dee," Dwayne kidded, and laughed with her. Dee was sure it was going to be a glorious trip.

******

Moonlight shimmered on the ocean as Dwayne and Dee languidly strolled the promenade deck, smiling and nodding to members of their group reclining in deck chairs or taking the sea breeze after dinner.

In the distance, a million twinkling lights were growing closer. Soon the port of Nassau came up to meet them.

Everyone went ashore, and Dee, riding across the island, peered out at the lush green-black foliage. Over the bridge, the rattling taxi sped to Paradise Island, where the group's hotel rooms awaited them.

Dwayne bade her good-night and Dee, briefly studying the lovely room of green and white, crossed to the white-slatted double doors and flung them open. Bright moonlight streamed into the room with the sound of the breakers crashing against the beach.

Dee's last thought before she slept was, "It is Tuesday night. We leave the island on Monday morning. I have five days and nights to make Dwayne see that we are made for each other." She was smiling as she fell asleep.

It was a wonderful but busy time for Dee and the Denver crowd. Her role as hostess meant escorting some of the travelers across the island bridge for shopping and browsing. The fashionable shops of Bay Street were a delight, and only a couple of blocks away, the world's largest straw market was a favorite of the Denverites.

But the days and nights flew past much too fast. Dee was having a glorious time, and Dwayne, she had to admit, spent as much time as he could with her. It was hardly his fault that every day's agenda was crammed with obligations for both of them.

Except Sunday, which was to be an entirely free night.

Saturday night rolled around and Dee, her slim body browned by the hot Bahamian sun, dressed for the dinner dance she and Dwayne were to host. From the closet she took a new, slinky white crepe dress, slipped it over her head and hooked the halter-type top in back of her neck. The dress, completely backless, zipped from mid-hip to waist. Her hips gently flared and the long dress fell to floor in soft swaying folds. Braless breasts pushed provocatively against the lush fabric covering them. Dee opened a vial of expensive perfume she'd purchased at one of the duty-free shops, tipped it up to a forefinger and dabbed between her breasts. A dab inside each elbow, and then she grabbed a brush and gave her hair one last vigorous stroking. "Dwayne," she said into the mirror, "it's now or never!"

A string orchestra was tuning up in the still-empty ballroom.

"Am I late?" came the velvet voice from behind her.

Dee turned. Dwayne, elegant in a tuxedo as black as his hair, was smiling at her. Lean fingers worried his silvery-blue tie. The stiff French cuffs of his white shirt were set off with gold links.

"No, I'm early." Dee brushed his hand aside, reaching up to straighten the tie.

"Thanks," Dwayne said, glancing at his gold watch. "You're right, it's just now 8:30 p.m."

Dwayne and Dee dined at the head table with eight travelers who considered themselves extremely lucky to be their companions. Before the last of the diners had finished dessert, couples drifted to the dance floor. Dee, eagerly anticipating Dwayne's arms, shot daggers at the brazen redhead who came to tap him on the shoulder and said, "Dwayne, I'm just dying to dance with you. My girlfriend-" she nodded at a smiling brunette two tables away "-bet me I didn't have the nerve to ask you." She smiled prettily.

Relieved when the song ended, Dee bit the inside of her lip in frustration when she saw the pair walking over to the brunette. Dwayne was speaking, and the women got up, tugged on his arm and dragged him onto the floor.

So went the evening. It wasn't Dwayne's fault. Dee knew that. She was also pursued and spun around the polished floor by more than one boisterous male intent on having a grand time. Dwayne gave Dee a knowing looks when their eyes met.

It was nearing midnight before, Dee feet beginning to swell in her high-heeled sandals, smiled gratefully and stepped into the commanding arms of Dwayne Johnson.

"Tell you what," he whispered. "When this song ends, make your way toward the door. I'll follow in exactly five minutes. They'll never know we're gone."

"I'll be in the casino by the first row of slot machines," she murmured, and felt all the listlessness leave her body.

Neither spoke for the remainder of the dance. The orchestra was playing an old romantic ballad and a smooth-voiced Bahamian was singing. The roomful of people faded away and there were only the two of them, moving as one, swaying around the floor. Dwayne held her very close. She was tingling from her nearness, the tips of his fingers like fire upon her cool skin.

Dee would have sworn that his smooth, warm lips were scattering tiny little kisses on the wispy hair beside her temples. A slow, spreading coil of desire began to build in her lower stomach, and Dee closed her eyes, wondering if it were possible to die from wanting someone too much.

In a daze, she sidled out of the ballroom, down the carpeted corridor and into the lively casino. Soon, Dwayne guided her to a pair of French doors at the side. Down the marbled steps and into a tropical garden they strolled, the full moon lighting the lush grounds.

Finally he spoke. "Let's walk on the beach."

"I'd love to," Dee said, "but I'll get sand in my shoes."

"Take 'em off."

"It's not just the shoes, Dwayne. What about my stockings?"

"So take them off, too."

"Turn around," she said, handing him her shoes. Dee, nervously casting worried eyes all around her, slid the silky panty hose down over her hips and legs. Now she wore nothing but the white crepe dress, and the ocean breeze molded it to her slender body.

Dwayne took the hose and stuffed them in his suit pocket.

They walked for a long way down the deserted beach, talking a little, drinking in the beauty around them, enjoying each other's company and the unspoken closeness between them. Dee felt her heart lurch with happiness when Dwayne finally said, "It's time to go in."

"Yes," she said breathlessly, the soft, filmy dress caressing her naked body, arousing her, teasing at flesh that craved the tall, dark man beside her.

They were at the door of her hotel room. Dee fumbled with the key, then turned and looked expectantly up at Dwayne, dropping it back into her evening bag. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the warm palm.

"Dee." His voice was husky.

"Yes?" Hers was breathless.

"Good night," he said. And handing her the silver shoes, he turned and walked away. 


	13. Chapter 13

A/N's: Hey, I know better than to mess with a woman with PMS! ;) lol

Chapter Thirteen

Stunned and unbelieving, Dee stood motionless, feeling her stomach knot painfully. Hand cold and stiff, she slowly closed the door, dropped the shoes and valiantly fought back the sob welling up in her throat. She crossed the room to open the slatted double doors that led onto the private balcony overlooking the white sand beach and the restless sea beyond. Dee stood alone in the moonlight, her slender body trembling with need. Tears of hurt and pain stung at the backs of her eyes.

Then she whirled and went back inside, stripping the soft dress from her heated body. She turned on no lamps. It was the darkness that she sought. Tears now sliding down her cheeks, she stood in the shadows. Finally, she walked into the adjoining bath, and hastily shoving her hair up under a shower cap, Dee stepped into the shower, jerked the curtains closed and twirled the cold-water faucet full open. Cold, pelting water hissed upon bare, heated flesh.

It did little good.

When Dee stepped out ten minutes later, her body temperature may have been a little lower, but the clawing need deep in her stomach remained. She was patting her wet body when she heard the soft knock on her door. She grabbed for her robe.

"I'm coming," she said, heart pounding in her chest, and rushed to the door. Running nervous fingers through the tingled mane of her hair, she lowered her hands, jerked frantically at the sash of her robe, took a shallow breath and said, "Who is it?"

"Dwayne," was the firm, one-word response.

Stifling a gasp, Dee opened the door.

He stood there, hands clasping either side of the door frame. The elegantly tailored tuxedo was gone. The white shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. His feet were bare.

Dee said nothing. One hand finally went to his pocket and brought out a pair of panty hose. He held them out to her.

"Oh," Dee said. "Thank you. I...I forgot."

For an interminable time, Dwayne stood there, saying nothing, his burning eyes devouring her.

"Dee," he finally managed.

He moved into the room and closed the door. "Dee, I...I hurt. I hurt so bad, honey. Help me. Hold me."

A flood of love and happiness washed over her as she murmured softly, "Oh, my Dwayne," and stepped into his embrace.

"Love me, honey. Please, love me. Dee," he gasped thickly against her sweet-smelling hair.

"Dear God," Dee marveled aloud. "You care. Dwayney-Boy, you still care."

"I said I'd care forever-" he slid a lean hand up to cradle her head "-and I meant forever, Dee." His eyes were filled with love and desire. 

His mouth slowly descended to hers and soon he was nipping at the soft flesh inside her bottom lip, teeth raking playfully, before he kissed the left corner of her open lips and said, "Dee, sweet, I want to make up for all the yeas I starved for the taste of you."

His mouth moved back to hers, his tongue sweeping across her small, even teeth, then sliding into the darkness behind them. Dee clung to his neck and let the warmth in her body and his rise unchecked. Dwayne placed her hand inside his open shirt, directly over his hammering heart. The feel of his warm flesh added new fire to Dee's burning body and she wrenched her mouth from his and began to shove the white, rumpled shirt down from his wide shoulders, over his long arms and off.

Inflamed by the sight and scent of him, Dee, her gold eyes glazing, began to press heated lips to the broad, dark chest, murmuring love words.

His hands worked at the sash of her robe. So caught up was Dee with the hard male chest she was caressing, she hardly knew when the robe slipped away.

Suddenly she became very aware of her nudity. Dwayne's warm, sure hands were pressing her close, his fingertips gliding down her naked spine to the small of her back. Dee's lips lifted from his chest and she looked up at him.

"I love you, Dee Thompson," he said and pulled her closer. 

Dee stood naked against the man she loved and kissed him and kissed him and was never quite certain how they arrived at the bed. She knew only that her head now rested on the soft, fat pillows in the darkness and that the sheets were cool and clean beneath her bare, hot body.

Dwayne stretched out beside her, his handsome face barely visible in the darkness. A long, heavy leg was resting over her own; she could feel the smooth, slick fabric of his pants and wondered fleetingly why he still had them on.

"Dee," he was saying, a hand raking through her hair, "there's not been one week, one day, one hour that I did not miss you."

"It's been the same for me, Dwayne. I swear it."

"Say it then, Dee. Say you love me." A lean hand moved down to caress a swelling breast.

"Dwayne, I love you. I have always loved you and always will. I belong to you, now and forever."

The hand at her breast tightened upon tender flesh. A finger circled the tight crest and Dee sighed with pleasure. "Oh, honey," he whispered in the darkness, "I love you, too. So much. So much I..." His hand released the breast and moved down to her narrow waist as his mouth again took hers in a deep, drugging kiss.

While the fingers of one hand tangled in her long hair, holding her mouth to his, the other hand continued to glide tenderly down her body, slipping around a bare hip. He shifted, pressing her closer to him, while his tongue went deep into her mouth and his chest pressed heavily upon her breasts.

For a long while they stayed in that position, taunting each other, pleasuring each other, savoring every magical, mystical step on the erotic road to fulfillment. Into each other's mouths they murmured love words.

Dwayne lifted his head. His eyes flashed at Dee and pulled from her embrace. Dee watched, enraptured as he rose from the bed. She heard the zipper slide down, squinted to see as he took off his dark tuxedo pants and tossed them over a chair.

The moonlight that slashed into the room covered only the lower half of the bed. "Dee." His velvety voice was very deep and loving.

"Yes?" She squinted back in his direction.

Dwayne's arm came out of the darkness. He reached for and found her hand. Gently he pulled her up to kneel on the bed. Dee, her entire body now awash in the moonlight, breathed shallowly, sat back on her heels and saw Dwayne step out of the darkness and into the light.

Above her head he was saying softly, "Dee, I'm going to turn you so that we will be lying with our heads at the foot of the bed."

Dee tipped her back to look questioningly up into his smoldering eyes. Dwayne could read her puzzlement.

"Because, darling," he said softly, "if we lie with our heads on the pillows, I won't be able to see you." Dwayne brushed his lips to her open mouth and gently maneuvered her down once more onto the bed, on her back, her face awash in the light of the moon, long hair spread out around her fragile face. He gently urged her satiny thighs apart and Dee moaned softly and tossed her head to one side, whispering his name.

Silky female flesh, wet from wanting, was his to claim, to caress, to make his own. Dwayne agilely shifted, moving his long, body over her. His mouth dipped to hers for a kiss of unrestrained passion and slid into her with a deep, sure thrust of his powerful male form.

It hurt very much like it did that first time, but Dee, her eyes wide open, looking into Dwayne's, bit the inside of her lip and felt the pain turning to pleasure, while above her, his breath warm upon her face, Dwayne murmured soothingly. "My love. I'm sorry, I'll stop, I'll wait."

"No," she sighed, "I want it. I want you to love me."

Dwayne sprinkled kisses over her cheeks and shoulders and breasts and felt her soft body slowly begin to relax and mold itself to his. They were one, joined in body and spirit, soaring high, finally exploding together. At the very pinnacle of pleasure, Dee's eyes widened in wonder, then slowly, languidly closed. They fluttered nervously open once again until she heard her gallant lover saying, "My darling, close your eyes if you wish. I love you, Dee, I love you."

Dee smiled lazily, let her eyes close and sighed with peace when she felt Dwayne's smooth lips tenderly kissing her closed eyelids. She lay completely limp and satiated while his mouth moved worshipfully over her face, her hair, her throat, and he remained still buried inside her; she was reluctant ever to have his flesh parted from hers.

Dwayne sighed and moved to her side, drawing her to him. "In all my dreams," he whispered, "in all the times I've lain in my bed and envisioned you in my arms again, never could I have hoped it would be this complete."

Dee smiled. "I know," she said. "Dwayne, I want to tell you something."

Dwayne kissed the fingers playing along his bottom lip. "What, sweet?"

"You know, darling, that first time, I was a virgin, remember?"

"Sweetheart, do you think I could ever forget?"

"Well, what I wanted to say is...I...Dwayney-Boy, since that night...that was the only time."

Dwayne raised up on an elbow. "My sweet, Dee," he said, "that's why it hurt again. Oh, honey, I hurt you. I knew it was hurting you and it's because-" The words choked off in his throat. "Dee," he said, stroking a lock of hair back from her cheek, "it was a wonderful gift you gave me all those years ago. It was the same gift you gave me tonight. You are a treasure and you make me so happy, Dee." He then confessed, "Listen to me. I've been to bed with other women, had sex, but I swear to you, I've not made love since that night you left me." He saw no look of censure in her eyes and he smiled, recalling the time she informed him of the difference. "There's a big difference, you know." He smiled.

Dee grinned. "Yes, I know."

Dwayne, relieved, lay back down and Dee, turning over onto her stomach, cradled a cheek in one hand; the other went to his chest.

"Dwayne, can we talk now?"

Dwayne yawned contentedly, folded his hands beneath his head. "Yes, now we can, Dee."

"Those first few months after I left I wrote you all the time," Dee reminded him.

"Yes, and your letters were full of all the exciting things going on at your L.A. station and of your success. I came to L.A. once," he admitted almost shyly.

"Dwayne?" Dee raised up on an elbow. "When? Did you try to see me, call me?"

"I did see you." He sighed. "Honey, I meant to call you and take you out to dinner. Then I lost my nerve, but they were having a big parade and I'd heard your radio station had a float."

"That's how you knew-" Dee's gold eyes widened.

Dwayne nodded. "There you were, showing off all your best assets to a panting crowd, while I stood, my blood boiling." His smile faded. "God, I wanted to jerk you off that float, cover you with my shirt and drag you home."

"Darling?" Dee said softly, "why didn't you?"

"Dee, sweetheart, I've a feeling you would have kicked my shins and told me to mind my own damn business, and you'd have been correct. You've as much right to choose which road to travel as-"

"I chose the wrong one. I've wasted years I could have been in your arms, so let's waste no more." Dee leaned down, gave his mouth a soft, sweet kiss.

"I wonder if your still the adventurous kind."

"I love adventure, you know that."

"Good. We're in the islands and we should take advantage of it, do you agree?"

"Yes. But then it appears to me we are taking advantage of it" She dipped back to his mouth, to tease, to taste, to delight him.

"Hmm, yes, we are," he mumbled, "but I thought tomorrow, since we have the entire day free, we could get up early, catch a plane to Eleuthera and..."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N's: Hey, I'm back! :)

Chapter Fourteen

Dwayne and Dee were hardly airborne the next morning before they were once again descending. The little commuter plane glided to a stop at Governer's Harbour Airport, and a taxi took them up a very narrow road to the ferry dock. Hopping onto the ferry, they were taken to the Dunsmore town dock. From there, they walked to a quaint hotel where Dwayne let of Dee's hand and strode directly to the desk. Dee wondered idly if he intended for them to check in and spend the day in their room.

Soon he was smiling broadly. "We're being ferried to a tiny, uninhabited island for a very private afternoon."

"You're teasing me." She arched her eyebrows.

"I'm not," he assured her. "The hotel dining room is going to pack us a lunch."

"Sounds wonderful," she said, thinking this was going to be one lovely Sunday.

And it was.

Less than an hour later, they stepped onto the hot, white sands of a minuscule island that belonged only to them for the day. The smiling little man who'd transported them waved a cheerful goodbye, promising to return at 8:00 p.m. In seconds he was only a speck on the emerald waters.

Dwayne stashed the hamper under the dense, shading foliage, then said, "Shall we take a swim?"

Together they played in the water, shouting, laughing, splashing, until they were tired. Dwayne swung Dee up into his arms and carried her onto the beach, dumping her onto a big blanket near the water's edge.

They lay on their backs in the sun, lazy, happy and soon hungry. Dee eagerly looked inside the hamper. "Dwayne," she said, "they've thought of everything. There's cold roast beef, ham, cheese, bread, wine, and fruit."

They dozed for a time after lunch. Dee stirred first, rolling easily to a sitting position. Beside her, Dwayne slept peacefully.

She sighed with supreme happiness, then rose and walked across the hot sands to the cool water. She walked out until the emerald waves were slapping at her breasts, kicked off from the bottom and began to swim gracefully out. She swam alone for a time, then suddenly gasped. Something was tugging on a toe. Kicking furiously Dee identified the pesky creature, laughing and giving a broad brown back a stomp of her bare foot.

Dwayne surfaced in front of her. "How long have you been out here?" A long arm circled her waist.

"Not long. You were sleeping so deeply." She put her hands atop his shoulders.

"Hmm, well I'm wide awake now and ready for action." His eyes gleamed.

"Mister," she said cheerfully, "I'm afraid you've come to the wrong island for action."

"No," he countered, "the kind of action I'm seeking can only be found here." His hands were sliding up her rib cage to her breasts. Dee felt a shiver of excitement. His hand went behind her, deftly unhooked the skimpy bikini top and pulled it away from her body while his eyes looked into hers. "Isn't that more comfortable?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Then why not take off the rest?"

"Dwayne, do you really think...I mean, what if..."

But Dwayne's hands were already sliding down over her hips. Thumbs hooking into her briefs, he said, "It's just us here."

Dee could only nod as she saw Dwayne's hand go high over his head to toss both pieces of her garb onto the breach.

Then he rid himself of his swim trunks, tossed them after Dee's suit and pulled her back into his arms, two eager bodies pressing naked together as Dwayne drew Dee's slender legs around his waist and kissed her long and lovingly.

"That's all you get for now," he teased her. "Don't want you getting spoiled."

Dee playfully nipped at a gleaming wet shoulder, pushed him away and swam out toward the green and blue of the horizon, fleeting deciding that swimsuits should be outlawed.

Dwayne swam out to her. They raced, they floated, they had a water fight. The walked naked out of the surf and stretched out on their rumpled blanket to rest, lying on their backs, eyes closed against the direct rays of the sun. The water rapidly dried on their bare bodies.

She was almost dozing when he said very softly, "Dee, I love you."

Dee's eyes slid open just as his mouth came down on hers, warm and gentle. Then it went to her soft shoulders. Dwayne's long, bare body nestled closer to hers and Dee felt her passions rising rapidly. The movements of his mouth upon her skin made her squirm and sigh and murmur his name. Soon, his tongue was gently pressing into the hollow of her throat.

His mouth slid lower still, kissing a path down her middle, pausing at her flat, sun-warmed stomach. Dwayne, the blood pounding in his ears, gratefully eased over her, and murmured, "I wish I could wait for a while, but I..." A look of torture flashed in his eyes as he entered her, moaning with pleasure.

Slowly he moved within her and Dee began to come alive, to enjoy, to feel her body heating, to crave and anticipate release. Dwayne sensed it, slowed his movements, eager to take her with him to total bliss. Exquisitely he loved her.

Dee was soon moving with him, whispering his name, feeling that sweet knot of fire building, until the inferno had to be quenched. The explosion came for them both and they moaned and sighed, tossed and buffeted by a force greater than they had ever known.

Slowly the waves of rapture subsided. They lay there on the sand, two stated, happy lovers, naked in paradise, free of clothing or guilt, or cares.

Dwayne finally spoke. "How do you like your adventure?"

Dee's answer was a smile, a soft kiss and a hug so tight Dwayne could feel it gripping his happy heart.

******

On Tuesday morning, Dwayne and Dee were back on their early-morning radio show. Working together had always been fun. Now there was an added dimension to their relationship and the dim control room fairly crackled with electricity. Love had conquered and its warm glow made the cold winter day appear brighter, the music better, their well-timed patter more humorous than ever.

A lenghty record played on the turntable. Dee asked, "When do you look for the rating book?" Dee was looking into his eyes and saw a puzzling flicker there which immediatley vanished. Dwayne smiled.

"Be any day now, Dee."

"You're not worried about it, are you?"

"Darling." Dwayne laughed easily and leaned closer. "You're imagining things. Now give me a hug before this song ends."

Relaxing completly, Dee smiled and pressed her cheek to his, supremely happy. She never saw the look of doubt filling the eyes of the man she loved.

Dwayne clasped her to him and silently battled the small tight core of fear expanding in his abdomen. He was sure they'd get a good book. Positive. And the entire broadcasting industry would know their success.

Would he lose her again?

Dwayne closed his eyes and tightened his embrace.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N's: Will he lose her? Only I know the answer, but you can find out by reading my latest chapter. ;)

Chapter Fifteen

That every morning, during the nine o'clock newsbreak, an excited Jeff Groen hurried into the control room. Mark Calloway was right behind him, grinning from ear to ear, the Arbitron rating book clutched in one hand.

Mark lifted it high. "It's here, kids. Just came in."

Dee swallowed and grabbed Dwayne's hand. Evenly, he said, "Out with it, Mark. Are we the hottest team in radio or not?"

"Dwayne, Dee-" Mark, looking from one to the other, proudly confirmed "-it's even better than we'd hoped for! I mean your show pulled a whopping sixteen share...more than our wildest expectations. Congratulations to you both. You two are an unequaled hit. No one else came close."

******

The week following the arrival of the fantastic rating book was one of sweet, undiluted pleasure for everyone's favorite radio team. Dee and Dwayne were together every moment, day and night, happily learning all the little idiosyncrasies of each other's complex personalities.

Dwayne found there were many thing's he'd never known about the charmer now sharing his apartment. She said nothing for at least forty-five minutes after awakening each morning. He found this strange, since the moment he opened his eyes, he was ready to discuss the day's plans. It took only a couple of mornings for him to learn that Dee liked being kissed awake, but conversation was taboo.

Dwayne also learned that he'd never fully realized just how lonely his life had been without this woman whose tinkling laughter was music to his ears. She cam to his arms whenever he held them out to her, which was often. She was his sweet, adorable Dee; his to touch and teach and treasure.

That's how it would always be.

******

Dwayne and Dee were well aware that the success of their morning show made their services infinitely more valuable. They'd discussed at length the amount of increase they planned to request at contract time.

Mark had already hinted at a figure he had in mind. Dwayne had smiled easily, knowing Mark would offer far less than the amount authorized. Bargaining was all a part of the game and Dwayne Johnson was good at it.

Dwayne and Dee, their airtime finished for the day, were seated in his corner office, discussing their salary increases. Dee, in her hand an envelope of photographs she'd taken on their Bahamas trip, was nodding her agreement.

"Oh, Dwayney-Boy-" she looked up, interrupting him "-you've got to see this one." She handed the picture across his desk. "You look like a movie star." She smiled at him.

Dwayne glanced at the picture, handed it back and said, "Show me the ones I took of you."

Dee complied and watched as his eyes lit up. He held one picture between thumb and forefinger, smiling broadly. The photo showed only Dee's face and bare shoulders.

He grinned at her. "I want this one for my wallet."

Dee shook her head. "If you ever..."

"...tell anyone that you were naked when I snapped this?" His hooded eyes mocked her. "I won't, sweetheart, but I know and that's what makes the picture precious to me."

The buzzing of the intercom interrupted them. Dwayne punched the button. "What?"

Sherry Jones's excited voice filled his ear. "Dwayne, is Dee in there with you?"

"Yes, she is."

"Oh, good. Tell her that she has a very important telephone call on line three from ABC in New York City."

"I suppose you heard that, Dee. You've a call on line three," Dwayne said.

"Hand me the phone, will you?"

"You might want to take it in your office, Dee."

Dee rose from the chair, smiling. "Why on Earth would I want to do that? I've no secrets from you." She lifted the phone and said, "This is Dee Thompson." 

Dwayne, lounging back in his chair, hands behind his head, watched Dee. He saw her eyes widen and sparkle with excitement, and his stomach tightened. "Yes, yes. I...Well, thank you." She listened for several minutes, then was again speaking.

Dwayne never changed his lazy position. He looked for all the world like a man totally at ease, so that his reaction was a great shock to Dee. When she'd ended her telephone conversation, she told him that it had been the program director from ABC in New York City. They had seen the ratings and wondered if she'd be at all interested in flying up to discuss the possibility of becoming the first air partner of their dynamic morning-show star.

Dwayne's hands slowly came from behind his head. His jaw clenched and his eyes were cold and hard when he said, "So when do you leave?"

Dee laughed. "Leave? Dwayney-Boy, I didn't say-"

Rage, unchecked, showed in his face and his voice took on a deadly timbre. "Your eyes said if for you." He rose, shoved his hands into his pockets and walked to the window.

Dee felt terror rise to her throat. Those eyes looked so menacing. She knew she must at once clear up any misunderstanding on his part or she was in danger of losing him again. Dee hurried to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and said softly, "Listen, I don't-"

Dwayne spun around to face her. "Listen? I did, Dee. I heard every word and I don't remember a single no coming from those lovely little lips."

Dee's apprehension grew. "Dwayne, you didn't hear me say yes, either. My Lord, give me a little credit."

"Credit?" he parroted. "Oh, sweetheart, you get all the credit. You're the smoothest little number on the airwaves." His eyes snapped with fury. "New York City!" He shook his dark head. "Just what you wanted. Dee, I understand, really I do. Who wouldn't be thrilled to get an offer from one of the top radio stations in the country?"

Heart thumping against her ribs, Dee felt dizzy, ill. "Dwayney-Boy." She sighed. "Don't-Oh, dear God, Dwayne, tell me to stay. Say you can't let me go."

For what seemed like an eternity, his eyes impaled her and Dee held her breath, praying to hear the words she wanted to hear.

Finally Dwayne sighed. "Dee, I am not going to tell you to stay."

Dee released her breath. Pride, hurt, and her own stubborn will mixed to make her say resolutely, "Very well, Dwayne, don't." She tried bravely to smile though her bottom lip trembled. "I can't make you, but I'll tell you one thing." She gulped for a breath. "This time it really is your fault. If your arrogance and pride are so great that you can't bring yourself to ask me to stay here with you, then we both lose, darling, because I will leave. I'll go to New York City and I'll do the best job I possibly can and in time I'll forget about you." Dee, paused, reached out, put a hand to Dwayne's downcast face, making him look at her once again. "It is my second choice, Dwayne. Do you hear me? Don't ever forget that."

Dee looked up at him, studying the depths of his brown eyes. She saw there an unmistakable sorrow. It touched her, but not enough to keep her from turning, stepping past him and walking determinedly to his office door.

The door closed behind her and Dwayne stood rigid where she'd left him. He couldn't believe it had happened again. 


	16. Chapter 16

A/N's: Yes, my dear readers, my characters are stubborn and prideful. I wonder what mischief they'll get into in this chapter....

Chapter Sixteen

The winter sun was setting and Dee, alone in her apartment, thought idly how soon something becomes a habit. It was strange to be alone in this place she'd thought of as home until a week ago. Since she and Dwayne had returned from that glorious holiday, she'd spent every night with him in his penthouse apartment across town. In exactly one week's time it had become very natural to take all her showers in his brown-tiled bath, to eat her meals from his chrome-and-glass table, to sleep like an infant in his big bed, a pair of strong, protective arms holding her close through the cold winter nights.

Throughout the long, lonely evening, Dee couldn't keep from hoping that the phone would ring, that it would be Dwayne saying he was sorry, that he wanted to come over. She was still hoping for a phone call when she crawled tiredly into her bed at midnight.

It was cold in her bed. So cold, Dee assumed the fetal position and longed for the arms that had held her only the night before.

******

Dwayne was coolly congenial when Dee walked into the control room the next morning. Treating each other like polite strangers, they said little until he swung their mikes into position and the morning show was under way. The show, like always, was professional and polished. They laughed and chatted, easily convincing their listening audience that they were in high spirits and having loads of fun.

At ten o'clock, Dwayne flipped off the mikes and rose. He exited the control room without a word to Dee.

Dee remained for a moment in her chair. When she stood up, she'd made up her mind. She went directly to her office and called New York. That done, she rose, took a deep breath and walked down the long corridor to Dwayne's office.

She knocked on his door and stepped inside as soon as he called out. "Dwayne," she said immediately, "I need a couple of days off." Dee met his gaze. "For personal reasons, I need to miss work on Monday and Tuesday mornings." She stood looking at him, hands clasped in front of her.

"Sure, Dee." He surprised her. "I see no problem."

"Dwayne, the reason I want-"

"You needn't explain," he said. "You haven't missed a day. You're entitled." His eyes lowered to the papers on his desk.

"Thank you," Dee said. She added, "Ah, Dwayne, I was wondering if I could come by your place this evening and-and pick up my things."

"By all means," he answered without raising his head.

******

Janelle Davis rubbed her temples. She pulled out her middle desk drawer, looking for an aspirin. The constant noise from the next office was beginning to wear on her nerves.

It was Wednesday afternoon. Dwayne had been furiously chinning himself on the high steel rod off and on since shortly after ten o'clock. This was the third consecutive day of hearing him heave and blow and raise himself repeatedly up to the bar.

Janelle knew what was bothering him. Rumors were rampant throughout the Denver radio community. Sherry had wasted little time in spreading the word that ABC in New York had called Dee Thompson with a job offer. Janelle shook a couple of aspirins into her upturned palm, shook her head and wished it were Dee Thompson that was shaking.

A great crashing noise from next door preceded the sound of Dwayne's office shower being turned on full blast. There'd be at least one more shower after this one if he went home at his usual hour of six.

******

The week dragged for Dee. Yet it flew past much too fast. All week she'd clung to a thread of hope that Dwayne would turn to her and say, "Don't go, honey. Please stay with me." Or that he'd come to her apartment. Or that he'd phone and say that he wanted her back at his place where she belonged.

As the days passed and her trip to New York approached, Dee began to face the facts. He was not going to stop her. He was going to let her fly up to New York, be interviewed by ABC and accept, should they offer her a job. She'd painted herself right into a corner and there was no way she could get out.

It was Friday. The day she was to leave. The morning show went smoothly. Ten o'clock came quickly and swallowing her pride, Dee looked up at the dear, handsome face and murmured ever so softly, "I'm going tonight, Dwayney-Boy, but until that plane take off-" The rest was left unsaid. Tears were threatening to spill and she could no longer trust her voice. Dwayne's eyes were as hard and cold as polished bronze. His tall, firm body was tense.

Dee knew it was hopeless.

"Good luck, Dee," he said, turned away and hurried out.

Her heart breaking, Dee left the station.

Dwayne went directly to his office, closed the door and walked to the chinning bar. Shortly after three in the afternoon, Janelle Davis knocked on his door.

Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside, closed the door and leaned back, arms folded. Dwayne, shirtless, perspiration glistening on his shoulders, lowered himself to the floor.

"She leaves on United's 7:00 p.m. flight for New York." Janelle looked straight into his eyes. Dwayne said nothing. "I checked," Janelle continued, "there are seats available." She smiled at the silent Dwayne, turned and left without another word.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N's: Ah, my Dwayne muse...I love him dearly, even if he sometimes succumbs to that Y chromosome....hmm....Dwayne....Oh, wait, where was I? Right, my shoutouts, as always I want to give a shoutout to Sharnhorst for giving my fics a chance, and to Dani for saying so many nice things about my other fics. My heartfelt thanks goes out to both of you. Now, on to my next fic...I'm thinking an Undertaker fic. Probably involving his wife from this story. If interested keep in touch, it should be up in the next few days.

Chapter Seventeen

Dee, looking cool and sophisticated in a well-tailored suit of cream wool, brown silk blouse with its mandarin collar fitted tightly around her neck, rich brown hair plaited atop her head, stepped into the first-class cabin of the New York-bound jetliner.

Smiling absently at the stewardess, Dee located seat 3A, glancing around at the few passengers already seated. A middle-aged couple sat in the front two seats; behind them, two tired-looking businessmen, one already dozing, held briefcases on their laps.

In the third row, a pair of long legs in gray flannel slacks was crossed beneath a copy of the _Wall Street Journal_, which covered the face of its reader.

Dee took her window seat, buckled the belt tightly and fought the foolish fear already crawling at her stomach. Heartache was temporarily forgotten as passengers boarded, the front hatch was locked, and Dee felt the movement of the big plane.

Eyes wide with fright, she looked out the tiny window, her small body tensed. Just as the heavy plane began to speed ever faster down the runway, Dee's head snapped around.

A lean brown hand gently covered a white-knuckled one and Dwayne Johnson buckled his seat belt with this other hand. Dee blinked at him in confusion that changed immediately to relief.

"I seem to recall you being a little nervous on the takeoff." His deep soothing voice had never sounded more wonderful to Dee. Dwayne brought her cold, stiff hand up to the warmth of his sweatered chest. Both his hands closed over hers and when she swallowed and tried to speak, he leaned close and said, "Honey, wait until we're up, then we'll say it all." Warm eyes caressed her and he added, "You're safe sweetheart. I'm here with you. Everything will be fine."

Dee smiled. She made no move to look out her window at the lights of Denver that the captain spoke of. She looked instead into the shining dark eyes of the man clinging to her hands.

"The captain has turned off the seatbelt signs," the voice over the intercom said. "You many now move around the cabin, but for your safety..."

Dwayne squeezed Dee's hand and said, "I suppose you'd like to know what I'm doing here."

"Yes, but whatever your reason, I'm glad you're here."

"You're sweet, and that will make it easier to say what I have on my mind." Dwayne nodded yes when the stewardess asked if they'd like a drink. "Champagne," he ordered for them both. Then he turned back to Dee. "Promise me that when you've heard me out, you'll give me an honest answer."

"I will," she told him and meant it.

"Dee, I love you. I want you to stay with me, but only if you're sure you'd never regret it."

"Dwayney-Boy, the only thing I'd ever regret is losing you again. Don't you know that?"

"Then why are you bound for New York?"

"Because," she admitted, "I suppose I'm almost as stubborn as you."

"Dee, you're very sweet, but are you certain you don't really want the job in New York? I love you enough that I want you to have-"

Dee interrupted. "Dwayney-Boy, you must believe me. I want nothing but to be your partner on the air in Denver."

"You don't think a year from now you'll wish you'd-"

"Never."

A broad grin lifted the corners of Dwayne's lips. "In that case, I've a suite reserved at the Hotel Pierre on the park. What would you say to a honeymoon in the Big Apple?"

Dee stared at him, speechless. Dwayne laughed and teased, "Does that mean yes or no, sweetheart?"

"Dwayney-Boy," she whispered breathlessly, "are you serious?"

"Dee, after this miserable week I knew I couldn't live without you-don't want to, refuse to. That decided, I knew I'd have to swallow my pride and come after you. Here I am, honey. I want to marry you at the Pierre. I told Mark we needed a week off. He agreed. Now it's up to you."

"The answer is yes!"

Dwayne laughed. "You don't want to think about it for a day or two?"

"Dwayney-Boy, you've told me what you want. Know what I want? I want to marry you just as soon as possible. I want us to spend an entire week inside that suite at the Pierre. I want to be on the morning show at X104 with you for the next twenty years. I want to have our babies and-"

"Sweetheart-" Dwayne leaned closer "-would you be terribly embarrassed if I kissed you right now?"

Dee's answer was to turn parted lips up to his. Dwayne, eyes filled with love, lowered his mouth to within one inch of hers and murmured, "Kiss me like there's no one else here."

"Is there?" she breathed and felt the sculpted male lips gently fit over hers.

Forgetting entirely where they were, Dwayne kissed her with rapidly increasing intensity and Dee clung to him and returned his ardor. The deep, drugging kiss was interrupted by the stewardess, clearing her throat just above them.

Dwayne reluctantly lifted his head. "You see-" he grinned and accepted their champagne from the attendant "-this woman has just agreed to become my bride and I felt that warranted a little kiss."

"I wholeheartedly agree." The attendant nodded. "Any may I offer congratulations." She flashed Dee a smile and made her way on down the aisle. 

"Dwayney-Boy?"

"Hmmm?"

"Have you any idea how much I love you?"

"If it's half as much as I love you, I'm satisfied."

******

Dee's sleepy eyes slitted open. Disoriented, she looked out the tall window across from where she lay. Cold rain streaked down the panes. Dee slowly turned her head.

A handsome face was smiling warmly just above hers. Sultry eyes were looking down at her. Dwayne pushed a shock of tangled hair back off her cheek and said in low warm, voice, "My sweet beautiful wife."

Dee smiled at him and murmured, "Good morning, husband," and lifted her head for his kiss.

Dwayne and Dee Johnson, the hottest morning radio team of Denver, enjoyed total anonymity in New York City. They could have gone wherever they chose and no one would have recognized or bothered them.

However, they took no chances. While cold winter rains drenched the huge, teeming city, the newlyweds stayed safe ensconced in their suite. Room service provided all meals.

Dee, who'd never before been to the city, smiled and stretched lazily in their rumpled bed and had not the slightest curiosity about the sights spreading out below their top-floor suite. All she wanted was in this room with her.

Dee clasped her husband to her, bit his ear playfully and said, "You know something, Dwayney-Boy?"

"What?"

"Someday we'll have to come back to New York and look around."

"Yeah," he agreed, kissing her throat, "we'll have to do that."

****

~Fin~ 


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